Homewrecker Incorporated (3 page)

❖

"That was a bit dramatic." I tapped my foot on the marble floor of the foyer. I'd waited for her outside our apartment.

Grace shrugged, stepping past me into the penthouse we shared. Our makeshift offices were a floor below us. Given the work we did, which often strayed precariously into the gray area of what was considered legal, we decided it was best to keep all aspects of our business low-key, eliminating the need for a traditional office space.

"I figured you could use the ride up alone to think before you dug in those stubborn heels of yours." Grace walked across the hardwood to the glass wall overlooking Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline.

She knew me too well. "It's our number one rule; don't fuck where we live."

"You know, you don't always have to fuck the marks, Claud." Grace stared at me pointedly. "All I'm saying is we listen first, and then decide if it's worth it to make this one exception. We've always known this gig couldn't be a long-term venture. Besides, don't you want more? I know I do. I want a real relationship with a man who isn't married, and this could be the money I need to make a real difference for kids like my brother."

Sure I wanted more, but my goals weren't as lofty or as noble as Grace's. I'd had some tough times when I was younger, but nothing quite as hard as what she'd gone through.

When she was only fourteen, her nine-year-old brother was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy. His disease was aggressive and ruthless. By age twelve he'd lost the ability to walk. Her mother, instead of stepping up to take care of her son, turned to drugs, leaving Grace to care for and raise her brother. With no other family to take them in, Grace covered for her mom time and again, knowing if she didn't the state would likely take her brother away. By the time she finished high school, Adam required full-time medical care. To pay for a long-term care facility, Grace worked three jobs while going to college on an academic scholarship. That first facility he was in wasn't ideal, but it was far better than anywhere the state would have sent him, and it was what she could afford at the time.

Adam was the reason she'd wanted to start Homewrecker Incorporated in the first place. With the money from our first year in business, she moved him to one of the best facilities in the country, which happened to be just outside of the city making it easy for her to visit him often.

As much as she did for her brother, Grace wanted to do more. She'd dreamed of starting a foundation to help families like hers for years. That's why she was so keen on considering the Chicago job. Thinking about all she'd been through and how strong and caring she was made my eyes sting.

"Okay, I'll listen to what she has to say, but no promises."

Taking on the kind of work we did as Homewrecker Incorporated at home was risky. There were nearly three million people living in the city, but even a big place gets small when you're pretending to be someone else. Not working where we lived was a helpful piece of advice from a former colleague who'd had the misfortune of running into a mark in her real life. Her new husband was less than understanding. That was definitely not a situation any of us wanted to find ourselves in. Not that I was worried about ever having a husband, but I definitely didn't want to have to explain my work to my family.

"Thanks, doll," Grace said with a wink as she pulled leftover Chinese food out of the fridge. My stomach growled loud enough for her to hear.

Grace tipped a takeout container in my direction. "You want?"

"No thanks. I think I'm going to head up to North Avenue Beach for a run." I needed to work off all the shit about the Bennett case still plaguing my thoughts. A few laps around the peninsula was one of the best ways for me to clear my head.

"Just make sure you get your ass back here in time for the call at three." Grace said in between bites of lo mein straight out of the white cardboard container.

"Sir, yes, sir!" I said with a smirk, waving backward over my head as I walked down the hall to my room to get changed.

Chapter 2 

I paced in front of my desk as we prepared to break our most important rule in running Homewrecker Incorporated. When Patty revealed the new client was willing to pay quadruple our standard commission--in advance, plus a hefty bonus upon completion of the job, regardless of the outcome--there was no argument or debate from me. Grace and I called Lydia and Bridget as soon as we hung up with Patty. They agreed even faster than I did. We had to go for it.

"Patty just messaged. She's received the signed agreements and she's going to call us in five," Grace said, rushing in. The look on her face was somewhere between elated and terrified.

"Someone should get Bridget so we can get started." I fidgeted with the phone, double-checking the cords were plugged in tightly.

Bridget appeared in the doorway as if she'd heard me talking about her. She looked as nervous as I felt.

Grace bounced around as if she'd drunk about ten energy drinks.

"Jesus, can you sit the hell down? You're making me even more nervous," I said. 

Grace pursed her full lips, obviously not appreciating my tone. "Sorry, I'm just freaking out."

"I know!" 

She returned to the bouncing. "I just want to know who it is already!" Her Southern accent was much more noticeable when she was anxious.

"It's the right move," I said, my eyes following Grace's athletic frame around my office. "It's the smart move," I continued, unsure if I was trying to convince her or myself.

"Do we know who it is yet?" Lydia said, picking up the line. She wouldn't be back from North Carolina until late that night.

"No, we're waiting for Patty to dial in," Grace said, finally sitting down next to Bridget in the other seat in front of my desk.

"Are you all there?" Patty asked, sounding every bit the New Yorker she was.

"We're here," I replied, leaning closer to be sure she could hear me.

"So, first things first, Claudia, the client has requested you for the job."

"What, why?"

In the past, the wives didn't play any part in determining which of us were assigned to their case. Once Patty sent an engagement our way, we always made the call based on research and observation of the mark.

"She asked me who was the best. You've closed nearly twice as many cases as anyone else I have, and I don't think there's a man on the planet who can resist your charms, so I felt confident saying that's you. She wants you and for what she's paying us, we're going to give her whatever the hell she asks for. Which brings me to my next point. She wants the meeting first thing tomorrow and she wants to come to you."

"Here in our offices?" Grace cut her wide eyes to Bridget and then me. 

I rubbed the pendant on my necklace between my fingers so hard I worried I would damage the delicate filigree design.

"Yes, she's concerned about being seen in a more public venue. Given who she is, it's understandable."

"Jesus, Patty, it's not bad enough we actually have to meet her? We have to let her come here?"

None of us had ever actually met a client before. We didn't meet them, we didn't talk to them, and they didn't know who we were beyond our aliases. In our business, anonymity was priceless.

"Trust me when I say she's got a hell of a lot more to lose than you do."

"For fuck's sake, Patty. Can you cut the shit and just tell us who it is already!" Lydia demanded after having remained silent since Patty got on the line.

You wouldn't know it to look at her, or talk to her with that sailor's mouth of hers, but the girl was a genius, literally. Her IQ tested at 165 when she graduated high school at fifteen. Einstein's IQ was 160. As such, in addition to fieldwork and helping our other resident smarty pants, Bridget, with computer shit, she handled all of our personal finances. The million-plus dollar penthouse Grace and I shared was courtesy of her investment savvy, the property value having nearly doubled in the five years we'd lived there.

"Open the e-mail I just sent all of you," Patty replied.

"Holy shit." I scanned the first attachment she'd sent.

It was an article from the business section of the Chicago Tribune. The story featured an announcement of G&G Components' impending acquisition of a foreign subsidiary. They were a well-known Chicago-based manufacturer of high-tech electrical vehicle components. While the company had become a wild financial success in recent years, the source of its notoriety amongst most Chicagoans was due largely to the philanthropic work of its CEO's wife. She was pictured in the article, looking as beautiful as ever standing with her husband at some event.

"No fucking way!" Lydia said through the speaker. "Are you saying Elsa Michaels is the new client?"

If you lived in Chicago, you knew of Elsa Michaels. She was a local icon, practically a saint, who ran a children's charity she founded. Not to forget her stunning beauty was just as renowned.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Patty laughed with excitement. I stood and started walking around.

"The Michaelses always seemed like such a happy couple," Bridget said sadly. 

She was definitely the hopeless romantic of the group. I blamed it on her lack of experience with men. The rest of us knew better than to believe in such fairytales. Well, Lydia and I did, at least. I'd questioned Grace's judgment when it came to men on more than one occasion over the years. Back in college, bad boys and jerks were her drugs of choice, and she always started out believing she could change them.

"Claudia, you lucky bitch," Lydia said with a groan. "Gregory Michaels can install his components in me anytime."

Lydia was always the perv of the group, which was saying something. I couldn't argue with her assessment, though. Gregory Michaels, no matter what his marital crimes might have been, was one of the most attractive men I'd ever laid eyes on. If he didn't have such a mind for business, a career as a model wouldn't have been much of a stretch. I had to admit I didn't hate the idea of being the one who would potentially get to fuck him.

"So you really think he's cheating? The way they were together, I wouldn't have guessed. They always seemed so in love," Bridget said quietly as she stood.

I looked at Bridget, my eyebrows raised in question. "Wait a minute, Bridge. Are you saying you know them?"

"I interned in G&G's IT department the last semester of my senior year. I never actually met Mr. and Mrs. Michaels, but I saw them meeting in the lobby sometimes." She shrugged.

I vaguely remembered seeing the internship on her résumé. It hadn't stood out amongst the vast array of other academic and professional achievements listed. I'd known Bridget was perfect for the job almost immediately. With her talent she could have gotten a job in IT at any big corporation she wanted, but Bridget was a hacker at heart. The world of clandestine investigation and surveillance at Homewrecker Incorporated allowed her to feed that passion. It didn't hurt she gained a full partnership when she joined us either.

"That's right, I'd nearly forgotten." I put an arm around her shoulder. At five foot nine, I felt positively Amazonian next to Bridget's small five-foot frame. "It's one hell of a fortuitous coincidence you having that connection," I said, looking to Grace who was smiling widely, clearly thinking the same thing.

"I wonder if they're hiring."

❖

The anticipation in the office the next morning was palpable. Bridget rushed around organizing refreshments in the conference room we'd set up and on the table in the entryway. The whole office smelled of coffee and cinnamon with a hint of chocolate. She scooted past me, a chocolate glazed donut on a napkin in her hand as she tugged awkwardly at her black skirt, which fell past her mid-thigh.

"You look nice, Bridget," I said. She twirled in the doorway of her office. Her long red locks, pinned up elegantly on one side, gave her a soft, dreamy look.

"I figured it was a pretty important day, so I should dress up." She fiddled with her skirt as if she thought it would fly up spontaneously at any moment. "Is this too short? I bought the outfit last night after work, and the sales girl said it was just right on me and very professional."

I smiled, proud of her for making the effort. She usually wore baggy jeans and a nerdy T-shirt in the office. "She was right, it is perfect and not short at all. In fact, I think it would be perfect for your interview." It hadn't been much of a surprise when Bridget's old boss at G&G jumped at the chance to get her back on his team. He insisted she come in for an interview as soon as possible, which was really only a formality with human resources. He would have hired her right there on the phone if he could.